


Not Touching You...

by rhysiana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (I tried to be smutty and failed), Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 19:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11766987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysiana/pseuds/rhysiana
Summary: Stiles has a spreadsheet. Derek is sure of it. A spreadsheet of all the places he can get away with touching Derek innocently in public that will drive Derek insane, and some sort of randomized schedule for which one he’ll pick that day so no one will notice. Stiles’ catalogue is thorough and extensive. He’s never going to get caught.Derek is going to die. Sure, he might die happy, but this is going to kill him.





	Not Touching You...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maiNuoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/gifts).



> A fic I originally posted on Tumblr for maiNuoire's birthday. She is the queen of smut and I... am not. It turned out funny anyway.

Stiles has a spreadsheet. Derek is sure of it. A spreadsheet of all the places he can get away with touching Derek innocently in public that will drive Derek _insane_ , and some sort of randomized schedule for which one he’ll pick that day so no one will notice. Stiles’ catalogue is thorough and extensive. He’s never going to get caught.

Derek is going to die. Sure, he might die happy, but this is going to kill him.

At the pack meeting the other night, he’d brushed the edge of his pinkie just along the outer edge of Derek’s palm, and Derek had to keep talking without a hitch in his voice, although he did get a few weird looks for what happened to his heartbeat.

At the fucking station two days ago, when Derek went in to act as a translator for an interview, Stiles had breezed in with a box of doughnuts and brushed that one spot on the back of his neck in front of his own _father_. Fortunately Derek’s hands had been below the edge of the table, so he’d been able to pop a claw into a clenched fist to distract himself.

This morning he’d been on a video call with the alpha of a pack in Mendoza, which he’d needed to really concentrate on because the Argentine accent took some adjusting to, and had very nearly fallen out of his chair when Stiles crossed behind him and then touched the inside of his elbow just out of the view of the camera.

The call had ended half an hour ago, and Derek had immediately gone looking for Stiles, but of course he’s nowhere to be found _now_. Derek’s half tempted to try tracking him ( _like prey_ , his brain supplies), but he’d have to go outside to start, because this is their home and Stiles’ scent is just everywhere. He’ll just have to lie in wait instead.

Stiles comes back about two hours later, whistling as he walks in and drops his keys by the door, only to stop short when Derek looms up across the end of the short foyer hallway, arm blocking his path.

“Well, hello, where did you come from?”

Derek really hopes he’s doing that thing that Stiles says makes his eyes glitter dangerously. “Oh, good, you’re home,” he says as mildly as possible, and bares his teeth.

Stiles swallows, now slightly nervous. “Uh, yeah?”

“Why don’t you come take a seat in the living room?” Derek asks, stepping back and gesturing Stiles onward with the arm that had been blocking him.

Stiles’ eyebrows draw in. “Is this about your call this morning? Is there a problem in Argentina? Are you going to have to go? Do _I_ need to go?” He sinks down into the armchair Derek had been subtly herding him towards.

“Oh, it’s about my call this morning, all right,” Derek breathes in his ear. Stiles tries to crane his head back to catch sight of Derek’s face, but he’s switched to the other side now. “And about yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that…”

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” Stiles says, striving for innocent, but with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Derek practically purrs as he rests his hands on the arms of the chair and cages Stiles in, leaning forward to look in his eyes. “And now it’s your turn. You’re going to sit here in this chair, and you are going to _take it_.”

Because Derek? Derek has a list of all the innocent, unexpected spots that drive Stiles crazy, too. He never bothered to write it down, but he has a very, very good memory.

Stiles makes it an impressive forty-five minutes of feather-light touches and murmurs in his ear before he finally breaks, jumping out of the chair and slamming Derek up against the wall for old time’s sake.

**Author's Note:**

> It's true, I [tumbl](https://rhysiana.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Touching You...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812161) by [SquishySterek (Herm_own_ninny)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herm_own_ninny/pseuds/SquishySterek)




End file.
